The Price is Right
by Princess Bertha
Summary: The Cullens lose all their money in an economic downturn and Edward is forced into the world's oldest profession. What could be better? Humor, obviously. Post BD.


**Stephanie Meyer owns everything. I own nothing.** Set after Breaking Dawn.

AN: This is dedicated to my wonderful friend who I shall call "Fluffy." (She knows who she is.) It was yet another one our late-night conversations that inspired this fanfic.

It's meant to be entirely humorous and otherwise non-serious. Furthermore, it has no overlap or anything to do with my other fanfic, "Endless Daylight" which is the Leah story.

* * *

Dr. Cullen was just leaving the hospital when he heard the news. This was the manger in which he heard: Some adolescent boy was idling his car. He was most likely waiting on one of his friends, who probably drunkenly shot himself through the foot with a nail gun, to hobble out of the ER. Anyway, it was one of those ridiculous cars that are painted an unnatural color, in this case, bright orange with green flames. The boy who owned the car had stolen his mother's coffee table and attached it to the back of the car as a spoiler. The spoiler was nearly bigger than the car itself. The car had more speakers than Rosalie had bloodstained wedding dresses.

It took Carlisle a second to realize what he was hearing. Instead of rap music, the speakers were blasting…. The news.

"And now, more on tonight's breaking development. The stock market has dropped eight hundred thousand points, which is technically impossible. That's how bad things are."

Dr. Cullen's jaw dropped. This was not good news. Fortunately, the Cullens were horrendously wealthy. They had more money than Edward had prudishness.

So Dr. Cullen happily drove his Mercedes home, back to his palatial mansion in the middle of nowhere. Even for Forks standards, it was in the middle of nowhere. And this was a pretty significant accomplishment.

"Hi, honey," he said to Esme, as he came in the door.

"Oh, Carlisle, there's something I want to talk to you about," said his lovely wife. "Apparently the economy has gone to hell and we don't have any money."

"Of course we have money! We are fantastically wealthy!" But as the happy couple continued talking, it soon became apparent that they weren't wealthy any longer. The government has seized many of their off-shore accounts, and was even considering pressing charges for tax fraud. Other funds had been transferred to the Volturi as a bribe for generally not killing the Cullens or any of their little vegetarian friends.

Actually, Edward, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Esme, Rosalie, Carlisle and Renesmee had all sent large bribes to the Volturi, not realizing that anyone else had. Bella did not, but that really didn't surprise anyone.

Esme and Carlisle could not figure out where all the money had gone. They called a family meeting and together with their six children and one very precocious granddaughter, they went over receipts.

In the last month alone, Alice had spent a small fortune on lacy thongs for Bella. None of which Bella had ever worn, being that she had an irrational fear of sexy underwear. Everyone thought it was a little questionable that Alice would spend so much time buying lacy thongs for Bella, but no one said anything.

Since gas cost 17 dollars a gallon, and the Cullens owned more cars than Jasper owned mirrors, this accounted for another large expense.

The Cullens were also spending entirely too much money on food that they would never eat and camping gear that they would never use. Nevermind all the hunting licenses they were always buying (The Cullens were law abiding citizens. Except, of course, for the whole tax fraud issue.)

"I should have known that investing millions of dollars in midget porn was a bad move," said Emmett, when it became apparent that the money was gone.

"Yeah, and I lost a bunch at the dog races last week," confessed Alice. "I bribed Leah Clearwater to enter, because I figured she's kinda small for a werewolf, but apparently she's still bigger than a greyhound so she was disqualified and I lost all the money I'd bet."

"I hate animal blood almost as much as I hate human food, so I've been spending a fortune buying black-market blood from disgruntled blood-bank employers," confessed Renesmee, who was now 18 months old. "I mean, damn, that shit's expensive. Bet you wish you hadn't spoiled me when I was a fetus."

"We could sell the cars," suggested Rosalie.

"No, not in this market. Everyone's buying bicycles and smart cars and hybrids and stuff," said Alice.

"We could sell some of my clothes," said Bella, but Alice refused to even consider the idea.

"You know, this might not have happened," began Carlisle, "if I wasn't the only one in this family with a job." He glared at his wife and children. "Seriously. Maybe if you'd all stop going to high school all the time and actually do something useful with your lives then we'd actually have some income."

"Well, that settles it," said Esme. "The kids have to get jobs. Gainful employment! It will be a really good life experience for them."

"What do we need life experiences for?" asked Jasper. "We're undead."

"You know, Esme, darling, _you_ could get a job, too," suggested Carlisle.

"Or the kids could."

The Cullens proceeded to draw up a list of all the jobs they could think of and tried to assign them to each other.

Bella suggested "Police Officer" and "Sucky minor league baseball player" because that's what she had experience with. These were both ruled out, since the Cullens were too good at baseball and if Emmett and Jasper became cops, they'd be like the cops in "Superbad."

"What about prostitution?" suggested Alice. Alice could get away with saying anything, because, come on, it's _Alice_.

"That's a good idea," said Emmett, "Which one of us?"

A very heated argument then occurred. No one could agree on who should be a prostitute. Eventually, Esme suggested that they put all the kids' names into a hat and choose one.

Carlisle reached into the hat and drew out a piece of paper. As soon as he saw the name, Edward began freaking out.

"I can't be a prostitute! I'm married!" he shouted.

"We're all married, dumbass," said Emmett, who was secretly disappointed that it wasn't him. Not that he wanted to have sex with anyone but Rosalie, but he figured that Rosalie could just pay him for sex. He hadn't figured out that if the Cullens were broke, she was broke too. It would take him several weeks to realize this.

"What about my virtue?" screamed Edward.

"What virtue? You got laid, and we all know it," said Jasper, pointing to Nessie, the Evidence of Edward Having Had Sex At Least Once, "so therefore your virtue is gone so just suck it up and take one for the team."

"But I've been to medical school twice!" he continued.

"Shut up, Edward. No one cares!" yelled Alice. "God, why are you such a whiner? I swear I could just kill you, sometimes!"

Bella was pouting. She did not want her darling Edward to be a prostitute, but she loved the Cullens so much and she knew that she couldn't win in an argument against all of them. In any case, Bella didn't want to be poor—she wanted to be fantastically wealthy. If she hadn't cared about money and cars and such then she would have married Jacob Black. But, let's face it, Edward's Aston Martin V12 Vanquish + Edward's silver Volvo S60R + her new Ferrari F430 Jacob's Rabbit.

So Edward became a prostitute. He found a nice little brothel to work in near Forks. Of course it was illegal, but there was only one cop in Forks—Charlie Swan—and he was sort of oblivious. He certainly never guessed that his son in law was selling his body.

"Okay, these are my conditions," Edward said as he went to the brothel on the first day of work. His entire family had gone with him, except for Nessie, who was staying with Charlie, the family feeling that a child should not be exposed to immorality. "Only women. No dudes. Also, I had better get paid a lot."

Thus began Edward's first day of work. He sat in his brothel-room sulking. Jasper had offered to do his makeup, eyeliner and the like, but Edward refused. He had only been there a few minutes when he had his first client.

It was a middle aged woman named "Candi." Actually, Candi was not her real name. Edward heard her real name in her thoughts; it was Mrs. Newton. But Mrs. Newton was trying to be incognito. She had never done anything like this before. "Hello, Mrs. Newton," said Edward.

Something that needs to be said about Edward is this: he has an incredibly sexy voice. Actually, everything about Edward Cullen is sexy. If you bottled sexy, it would come in an Edward Cullen shaped bottle. If you baked a cake from a recipe that was called "Sexy Cake," it would taste like Edward Cullen. If you went to a town, and that town was named Sexy Town, it would be located on Edward Cullen's chest. If there were a lotion that gave men the Edward Cullen finish, there would be only one bottle in the world—it would come in platinum bottle encrusted with diamonds and would be worth more than the US and Chinese economies combined and have more armed guards protecting it than the grand total of all the times Bella has been clumsy to the point of farce.

But there is no such bottle. So stop hoping that something is magically going to turn your boyfriend into Edward Cullen. It won't ever happen.

This is all by way of saying that Edward is Sex. He doesn't have sex, he _is_ sex.

Which is why when he said, "Hello, Mrs. Newton," Mrs. Newton proceeded to experience more pleasure than she had ever had in her entire life, cumulatively. She became a trembling pile of feminine goo on the floor.

Edward leaned back against the headboard. Eventually, Mrs. Newton crawled out of the room, leaving Edward slightly richer. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Edward's second client said she was named "Cherry" but he knew her name was actually Mrs. Crowley. "Hello. Mrs. Crowley," said Edward, before she could get too close to the bed. Mrs. Crowley had the best orgasm of her life—past or future.

It was like that all day. And everyday after that. Bella was relived that Edward wasn't actually having sex with anyone but her, but to Edward, it didn't' matter. At home, he became a zombie, wandering around muttering "virtue" over and over.

After Edward had been there a about a week, Leah Clearwater came to see him. She walked in the door and snapped "Stay where you are!" Edward never got up from the bed anyway, but he was a bit annoyed at being told not to move.

"I heard a rumor that you can get a woman off just by saying her name and looking at her."

Edward nodded. Indeed. This was his special gift.

"I haven't gotten any since Sam left me, and also, being here would really piss everyone off. So?"

Edward sighed (hey, it's a living) and said, "Hello, Leah Clearwater." Nothing happened. This was the first and last time that Edward would not be able to perform in his usual way. He stammered, "This never happens to me!"

The truth is that God (in this case, Stephanie Meyer) has decreed that nothing good can ever happen to Leah Clearwater, ever. So she's immune from Edward's power.

Edward's clientele was mostly just middle-aged women. And lots and lots of teenage girls. One day Edward asked his boss, the Madame, if that was even okay. I mean, these girls were pretty young. Wasn't there like an age requirement or something?

But apparently all of the girls had fake IDs so there was nothing the Madame could do.

It actually was unfair, though, since now the entire 15-year-old population of Forks and Western Washington generally would have ridiculous expectations for men.

One day, after Edward had been working for about a month, he had his first male client. Edward did not want to have anything to do with men, but his door opened and in walked Jacob Black.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Edward demanded. "Shouldn't you be off babysitting my daughter or something?"

Jacob just looked at Edward. "So it's true?" he asked. And then he started cracking up. He was laughing so hard he was crying and he couldn't really breathe. Actually, it's fortunate that he didn't suffocate. "AHAHAHAHAHAAHA!" Jacob laughed like a mad laughing fiend. Then he pulled a camera out of his cut-off shorts and proceeded to take about 15 photos of Edward.

"No photos!" shouted Edward, but it was too late.

"Dude! I am so going home and putting these on facebook and tagging you in them! So that everyone knows that you're a whore!" Jacob was still laughing, "And guess what? I WIN! So there! You might have gotten Bella, but I have photos of you as a prostitute!"

Jacob left, shouting "victory!" and cackling madly.

The good news was that Edward's job soon made enough money that the Cullens were ludicrously wealthy again. Edward retired, finally, and the female population never recovered.

* * *

AN: Reviews are love.


End file.
